The Final Victory,  A World War II Story
by silver-doe287
Summary: As a Jewish young man in 1940's England, Merlin Emrys never expected to fall in love with the enemy, especially the young Luftwaffe soldier Arthur Pendragon.
1. The Disclaimer

Hello, everybody! Just to give everybody an update, here's what's happened regarding this story:

First of all, my mind won't listen to me. It says yes, I must write this story or die, but it demands it to be a Merlin/Arthur as well as an M-rating. If this inconveniences you, I apologize greatly. During my NaNoWriMo writing (which I won, by the way, I have the T-shirt to prove it) the bunnies attacked and twisted my perception of the story into something a bit different. So it will be Merlin/Arthur.

Second, updates are going to be crazy with scheduling but they will be worth it as they will be long and hopefully satisfying when you do read them.

Third, I love everybody that has already put this story on the alerts. It's like you've been waiting for me to write something new in my multi-chapter fiction! After Silver Chain of Evening Rain, I haven't really had the chance to write a multi-fic and this is my chance at attempting to live up to the name that The Student Prince has given most Merlin fanfiction readers (those that read Merthur, anyway).

So, in conclusion, prepare for chapter one! I will make each chapter at least 1,000 words long, so expect many update and much love and imaginary cookies from me for being patient and understanding!

If this is where you leave the fic, I apologize immensely. I will try to make it up to you soon!

Sincerely, Silver Doe of oops-what-was-I-thinking land.


	2. Then: Chapter 1

**(Please go back and read the first chapter, thank you!)**

Story: The Final Victory

Rating: M

Pairing: Merlin/Freya, Merlin/Arthur

Warnings: Minor character death, explicit sexual content, vulgar language, mild violence

Summary: As a Jewish young man in England, Merlin Emrys never expected to fall in love with the enemy, especially the young Luftwaffe soldier Arthur Pendragon.

Part 1: Then

Date: 7 September, 1940

Location: Countryside outside of London

If Merlin could ever imagine a more perfect day, he would fill it with impossible things. Things from his childhood, things that couldn't be taken back, things that had more sentimental value than actual worth.

He would fill the day with good memories of his childhood. He could barely remember the childlike wonder he possessed whenever he traveled to London, whenever he had an important gift to share with his mother, or whenever he had a special birthday. He remembered few things from his youngest years, but if he could take a day and make it perfect, he would fit as many of these memories back into the forefront of his now-forgetful mind.

He would fill the day with his earliest days from first becoming friends with Will and Freya. Together, the three had gotten into so much mischief that they had been nicknamed the three musketeers, and Merlin remembered this so fondly that he sometimes took out the hat he had made for himself just for the occasion.

And then, perhaps he would fill the day with his gift-receiving on the ever-important Hanukkah, and his memories of spending time with his mother. She had always made sure he had the best gifts and nothing had made Merlin more happy then playing with his Hanukkah dreidel.

If all of these happy, wonderful things had been rolled up into the same day, Merlin might have given them a close second to the day he was currently having.

The sun had beat on his back for most of the morning, as he had stood in the same position and waited for the event to commence. The cloudless, beaming day had been just has cheerful in greeting the earth as Merlin had been, and waiting had definitely been worth it when he and Freya were finally wed. The ceremony was small but memorable, and he smiled bashfully at her now underneath the lights of the torches around the slowly dimming sun. The sun didn't seem to want to go down, and its reluctance was painted against the threatening black of the night sky that was welded together with the light blue by a fantastic purple hue striping across the horizon.

Merlin felt his hand, warm as it was being held by his new bride, begin to sweat. He was a tad nervous to be married, but nothing could mask the joy he felt at being next to his childhood friend, then teenage sweetheart, who was now his blushing bride. Freya smiled shyly at him from beneath long, fluttering eyelashes. Her cheeks were rosy from the firelight, the wine, and possibly the same nervousness that was sending Merlin's heart into a race.

With that thought he politely excused himself from the table, his eyes sliding towards Freya's parents and his mother before finding his wife's eyes again. He blushed further, and retreated out of the tent and into the cool, night air, as a strange buzzing sound seemed to begin humming in his ears.

The tent was situated in the middle of the long, gravel driveway that led to the abandoned farm that was used for such purposes as events. Merlin had been adamant, however, that if the weather would permit the reception would be held outside. Sure enough, it seemed as if the sun had been hotter than usual because it wanted to join in the ceremony and remind everybody that although it was September, it was indeed still there and willing to be warm enough to exist. Not a cloud had drifted lazily in front of the blazing sun, so by the time the tent had been set up for the celebration the guests had been dripping in sweat.

The abandoned farm where the reception was had nothing left now but one, lone tree and an old, red barn. The latter was leaning slightly, as if whoever had tried to put it up had decided it needed a tilt to it. Merlin gazed fondly at the barn as he stepped around the back of it, shielding himself from the view of the rest of the party. It had been the place where the three musketeers had imagined many of their adventures, and it had been the place where Merlin had first kissed Freya. This barn held so much sentimental value for him, and he considered finding the owner and requesting to buy it for his and Freya's new home. He would need to build a house, of course, but that way he could be closer to the memories that mattered most to him.

With this happy thought in mind, Merlin unzipped his pants.

That's when the bombs began to ring out.

Merlin's eyes snapped up to the sky, his face shocked beyond belief as his eyes found the source of the issue. The steady hum that had been unknowingly growing in his ears had now become somewhat of a distant roar, and just beyond his proper vision he could make out small black dots coming from an even blacker sky, advancing upon him and the rest of the party with a speed that seemed unmatched.

His pale face grew even whiter against the sheer red of blossoming roses that sprang up across the fields in front of his vision, threatening him in their disastrous beauty. The roses were blooming as if it were the peak of summer and the weather was ripe; and they were rapidly descending upon him and the party that lay behind him.

In that single moment, a fear grasped him that Merlin had never felt before, and as soon as he realized his next move he was stumbling backwards, zipping up his pants and almost tripping over his feet as he shouted, the sound ripping from his throat as he tried to warn the wedding party. Dashing around the side of the barn, he saw that they had just become aware of the looming threat, and they had begun to panic. The music shuddered to a halt as a single lone note rang through the crowd's rapid movements. Through the flurry of people dashing to the barn for cover, Merlin thought he saw a flash of white. Fear gripping his heart, he started towards the mob of people with the sole intent of finding Freya. Overhead the low drumming of planes was too close, and the sound of people fleeing was drowned out by the shattering of bombs like glass on pavement.

And then, right before his very eyes, the red seemed to rear up and begin to engulf the farm. They were trapped. Merlin heard what happened next a second before it happened. The soft whir of something being dropped, the steadily growing roar of the overhead planes –

And then the world exploded.

Red and white and black appeared all around and the next thing Merlin knew, he was in the air and being carried by a forceful wind. He was slammed back into the ground, the remnants of the wedding decorations and his horror descending upon and around him. The world was a sudden mass of black smoke that filled his lungs and tried to suffocate him, and he coughed and spluttered, trying to breathe without being able to move. Gradually, the smoke began to drift away, as if to reveal the horror in a grand flourish.

As soon as he could move again Merlin twitched his fingers, trying to rise to his feet. Disoriented, he sat up and watched through blurry eyes as the world around continued raining debris as if it were black tears from the sky. Everything was fuzzy, and he put his hand to his head in confusion, drawing it back to stare at the sticky substance that came with. His head was bleeding.

But Merlin didn't care about this as he finally began to focus on his surroundings. The dull roar that reached his ears could have been the leaving planes, or it could have been his imagination – all that he cared about was what had become of his surroundings.

So he slowly stumbled to his feet, the fear growing inside of him as he strained to hear a sound other than that of the departing planes, the soft shattering of other bombs that the planes dropped in their wake, and the gentle crackling of fire that seemed to eminate from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

He was standing in a field of black. The bomb had turned everything to soot, ash, and fire, and had flattened the barn in five seconds flat. All that remained were the twisted pieces of rubble that might have once been wood, the charred canopy of the top of the tent, the black stump that was once the lone tree of the farm.

And there were no people that he could see. No signs of life stirred among the rubble. Through the fear that had swept across his heart Merlin stumbled forward, not caring when he fell as he began to crawl towards any larger piece of rubble he could find, searching for something, anything…

He was hardly aware of his soft sobbing as he continued to search, but all that remained of the wedding was now turned to ash. The people were gone, the barn gone, the hopes and dreams of a happy future gone…

His wife was dead.


	3. Then: Chapter 2

Story: The Final Victory

Rating: M

Pairing: Merlin/Freya, Merlin/Arthur

Warnings: Minor character death, explicit sexual content, vulgar language, mild violence

Summary: As a Jewish young man in 1940's England, Merlin Emrys never expected to fall in love with the enemy, especially the young Luftwaffe soldier Arthur Pendragon.

Part 1: Then

Date: 24 December, 1940

Location: London, England

The solitary knock at the door echoed through the empty apartment like a lone bell ringing above a courtyard before resounding into the walls of the surrounding buildings and into the valleys beyond. Merlin, who was attempting to find solace in sleep but was failing at doing anything other than staring at the peeling wallpaper that seemed to stare impassively at him, jumped at the startling noise. He sat up from the bed in the guest room, tuning back into the sounds of the city below his window and the soft sounds of the neighbors. He blinked, feeling disoriented at the sudden attempt at thinking properly.

The knock came again, this time rapping even sharper and ringing in Merlin's ears, reminding him that somebody was calling upon the people within the house. His breath hitched slightly in his throat, and he had to remind himself firmly that he was in England, and nothing would happen to him here like it might in other places. Still, he had to steady his hand against the wall when he tried to stand up. The knock came a third time as he attempted to take deep breaths. Then he began to slowly shuffle through the threshold of the guest bedroom and through the hallway into the small kitchen and to the front door. Not bothering to peek through the peephole, he left the latch in and opened the small sliver of door that the lock would allow.

The man standing on the other side seemed eerily familiar to Merlin. His long face, covered only by a neatly-trimmed beard and moustache, radiated both warmth and a sense of battle-hardening that Merlin didn't understand. His eyes, silver-gray and appraising, stared at him as if he were not what the man was quite expecting. Merlin didn't care about this, this wasn't his house after all. He was just a guest.

"I was told I might find a Merlin Emrys here," the man said in a low tone, his tone sounding guarded and almost as impassive as the wallpaper had just been for Merlin.

"From who?" Merlin asked back, his voice void of any emotion as was the quality it tended to take on whenever he spoke; and this didn't happen very often, anymore. As much as he was used to this, however, the man before him looked visibly shocked for a moment before composing himself again.

"It's Christmas Eve, I've come a long way. Please may I come in?" he asked in an almost-pleading tone. Merlin pondered for a moment, although in his own brain he was more mulling over the fact that if this was some person who didn't like Jews as much as the Germans and was going to kill him, then he wasn't too concerned. With this masochistic thought in mind, Merlin unlatched the door and let the stranger who had asked for him inside the flat.

The strange man walked in, seeming to look around at the kitchen and the small living room beyond where there stood a small Christmas tree. The man's eyebrows raised while Merlin closed the door and latched it again, before he stood with his hands clasped behind him, appraising the stranger's appearance.

The man was wearing rather nondescript clothes: a black set of trousers, a cream-colored shirt and an equally-black trench coat complete with heavy boots that didn't trail as much snow in as Merlin had thought they would. The man had longish dark hair that had a wave in it. His hair was pulled back from his face in a low pony that not many men could pull off. He turned back around and seemed to look at Merlin in the same way he was being assessed. Merlin hadn't thought of what he was wearing until now, and he self-consciously looked down at his navy sweater and black trousers. He wore white stockings that were thinner than he usually could stand, but at the moment he hadn't been thinking much about his health, let alone his appearance. Everything he put on was courtesy of what Lance let him borrow, so the clothes hung on his small, bony frame like he was a small child instead of the eighteen-year-old man that he was.

"Are you Merlin Emrys?" the man asked, this time his silvery eyes intense as they bored into Merlin's. Merlin moved his hands to his front, found them twisting around each other, and looked down. He let out a quick nod, wondering what the man would do.

"I thought you were Jewish."

Merlin's head jerked up to stare at the man. The way he said those words…they bothered him. Merlin's eyes glanced over to the Christmas tree that stood in the living room, saying nothing. Should he admit that this wasn't his apartment and he didn't want to draw attention to himself from this area of town? Perhaps the man didn't know that this area of town, although accepting of Jews, wasn't exactly the opposite of discriminatory?

In the end, he said nothing. This seemed to satisfy the man enough, and nothing more was said on the matter.

The man seemed to stare at him for an unnatural amount of time, and Merlin, although still not feeling the complete range of emotions he hadn't felt in a long time, began to feel a little anxious. Shouldn't the man get on with whatever it is he came to say or do?

"I'm your father, Merlin."

Again his eyes jerked upwards to stare at the silvery ones. Then Merlin began to study the man's face again, and this time realized why it looked so familiar. If he were to take away the facial hair, bring down his age a few years and cut his hair shorter, he would be staring at a very similar version of himself. This was his father. Balinor.

"Do you believe me?" The man asked again, and Merlin nodded his head once to show that he did. He still didn't speak, and the man glanced down at his feet for a moment.

"I heard about your mother and wife, I'm sorry," he said in a rather gruff voice, and Merlin quickly moved, this time walking past him to sit in the living room on a couch next to the Christmas tree. The man – his father, Balinor – seemed surprised at the sudden movement but said nothing as he followed and occupied the couch opposite Merlin and the tree. His eyes drifted to the tree again.

"So are you not Jewish?" he asked rather abruptly, and Merlin finally spoke.

"I'm Jewish," he said. His voice was hoarse but he just let his statement float over to the ears of his father, the man he had heard of but never met.

"Oh."

It was silent for another few moments, before Balinor tried again.

"I was wondering…if you wanted to come and live with me for awhile," he suggested mildly. Merlin just stared at him.

"I mean, it would require some help on your part, but I figured you had a cause to fight for…" his father trailed off. Merlin waited for more, and eventually Balinor huffed and explained.

"I help with an organization calling themselves Zionists, purely to help Jewish people get out of German-run countries to other countries," he said. "I recently brought over a group of young Jewish children to London, and I figured that I would drop in on you and your mother while I could. Unfortunately…I was too late. But I travel around a lot, and it would be nice to have somebody with me."

"No."

The answer again seemed to boom its echo across the ceiling, through the Christmas tree and back into Merlin's ears. He had begun hearing everything twice now, and he knew it was a symptom of his loneliness for attention. He just couldn't bring himself to interact anymore.

The expression that passed across Balinor's face was shocked.

"Are you sure you won't even consider –" He said.

"No," Merlin repeated softly, his voice still impassive. He didn't want to, he wasn't ready for anything else yet.

There was a lull in the words spoken for some moments, and Merlin found that staring at his father, drinking in the older version of himself that he would one day be as much as he could. In his mind he was weighing his options, trying to see if he would want to live that long or not. He had contemplated dying before, but to see such a close resemblance to himself seemed to make him think more about it. Pondering for the time being.

Balinor looked more concerned than shocked now, and he stood up slowly.

"I need to make a phone call before I leave, and then I'll be out of your way," he said softly. Merlin made no note to acknowledge that he heard this, but stood up instead and walked back into the guest room. He didn't even have the motivation to close the door again. Sinking down on his mattress, he resumed his staring at the impassive wallpaper as he drowned out the low murmuring of his father's voice on the telephone. After awhile everything became silent, and before he realized it somebody was sitting at the edge of his bed.

It was Lancelot. His late wife's best friend put his hand comfortingly on his ankle. Merlin felt the warmth seep into the rest of him, but he didn't let it reach his heart. He couldn't feel anything there anymore. It was broken.

The rest of Christmas Eve passed quietly for the young Jewish man hiding in the guest room of a Christian flat in a Christian part of town.


	4. Then: Chapter 3

Story: The Final Victory

Rating: M

Pairing: Merlin/Freya, Merlin/Arthur

Warnings: Minor character death, explicit sexual content, vulgar language, mild violence

Summary: As a Jewish young man in 1940's England, Merlin Emrys never expected to fall in love with the enemy, especially the young Luftwaffe soldier Arthur Pendragon.

Part 1: Then

Date: 26 February, 1941

The next month had passed by just like the others; Merlin had dared to venture outside maybe once, but the fear and lack of emotion for others had kept him inside his room in the flat, cautiously watching from his high window at the small models of people on the streets below him. When the beginning of February had finally reached him, however, Merlin began to go stir-crazy in his safe haven. The grief that had driven him to be nothing but the phantom in the flat was starting to wear off, and although he still felt the constant ache in his heart for those he had lost he was ready to leave. Imposing on Lancelot once had been a slight comfort, but now Merlin knew it was time for something different.

And that's why he now knew what his next path was, no matter how dangerous it may be.

It was Merlin's nineteenth birthday, and to his dismay Lancelot, Percival and Gwaine had insisted on a party of sorts – well, it wasn't really the men so much as Lancelot's girlfriend Gwen.

If Merlin could say he had taken any close friends out of his experience in London, it would have been his friendship with Gwen. The woman was kind, caring, and understanding of his situation. She had more often than naught come over to the flat when the others were out, complete with stew in a pot and a set of waiting ears that were ready to listen to anything he had to say. As shy as Merlin was, he secretly appreciated all the effort Gwen seemed to put into spending time with him. It had been something in this motivation that had begun to motivate him to leave, as well.

On the day of the party, Merlin was awoken by the shuffling of four people into his small room. He blinked blearily as they all came in with beaming faces and a tray filled to the brim with a breakfast fit for a king. They set it down in front of him, sang together and congratulated him with beaming faces. Merlin was surprised; he didn't think that anybody would even remember his birthday because he hadn't even spoken of the date to any of his friends. Staring at the platter of eggs, sausages, fruit, and anything else he could find, however, he realized that his friends had been there all along while he had sulked away in the flat. This thought made him realizing that although his friends would never admit it, he had become a bit of a nuisance.

He stared at his eggs, struggling to keep his expression pleasant while he battled with his thoughts internally. In the end, however, he reached his final decision.

The small slip of paper that had sat in his nightstand drawer for the past two months sat comfortably in Merlin's hands later that day, as he stared at the numbers on it with shaky thoughts. This was the craziest thing he had ever thought of doing, and just at the thought of attempting to start again he felt tears sting at his blue eyes. But this needed to happen, he reminded himself. He needed to leave.

His ears strained to catch a sound from the main room. When he confirmed that the flat was completely silent, Merlin stood up slowly and made his way to the kitchen, paper now clenched in his shaky fist. He walked straight up to the telephone, a device he hadn't used in this flat yet, and stared at the now-crumpled paper in his hand.

It was now or never.

Without a second thought Merlin picked up the phone from its cradle and began dialing, not stopping to breathe until all the numbers were punched in and the phone began to ring patiently.

He picked up on the third ring, sounding out of breath.

"Father…" Merlin said softly, feeling the term roll off his tongue in an unfamiliar way. He had never told anybody about his previous encounter with the man from Christmas Eve, but now he felt that he should have at least told Gwen of his predicament. What he was about to do would definitely put at least his life in danger, and there was every possibility, as a Jew, that he wouldn't come back from this alive.

Merlin realized then he was trying to scare himself out of the deal. He heard his father's bated breath as he waited for the next statement. Swallowing his fear and wetting his dry throat at the same time, he opened his mouth to speak again.

"I want to come with you."

**A/N: Sorry this one is a bit shorter, I'm trying to speed up the story as much as possible since I believe some people are waiting anxiously for Arthur to make an appearance. He will appear in…four chapters, but the chapters to get there are very important to the story so unfortunately I can't skip them.**

**I'm going off as many facts as I can based on timelines and such, but there are many things I don't know so for the sake of my lack of WWII knowledge please be a nice critic on such matters. ;)**

**I will try to update again before Christmas, but if not, Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays for whatever you celebrate! Hopefully you have more snow than I!**


	5. Then: Chapter 4

Story: The Final Victory

Rating: M

Pairing: Merlin/Freya, Merlin/Arthur

Warnings: Minor character death, explicit sexual content, vulgar language, mild violence

Summary: As a Jewish young man in 1940's England, Merlin Emrys never expected to fall in love with the enemy, especially the young Luftwaffe soldier Arthur Pendragon.

Part 1: Then

Date: July 25, 1941

His blood was racing in his veins as if it were trying to run fruitlessly away from a lethal disease. He was holding his breath as his entire body tensed, lying low in the grass that was stained gray in the light of a nearly full moon.

"Are you ready?" came the soft voice next to him, and Merlin looked over with wide eyes to meet the hazel eyes of his father.

"As I'll ever be," Merlin replied just as softly, letting out the breath he had been holding in a whoosh that slightly disturbed the tendrils of grass in front of his face.

Father and son were deep in the heart of forbidden territory, in the middle of France in a town that Merlin hadn't caught the name of. They were lying in the grass right before a small dirt road that would usually look otherwise unimportant, but Balinor had told Merlin what the road was really used for.

"Do you see that light up the road that's shining on that building?" His father asked him, slowly reaching up with his arm and carefully pointing down the right fork in the road. Merlin squinted slightly, and he could just make out the building in the distance, one that was probably larger up close and proved to look daunting even at a distance. It stood bathed in glow against the night sky that was slightly more purple than black. This told him how close they were to another city, most likely Paris.

"That's the solitary prison," Balinor explained in a low voice. "That's where people who most likely have information about Jew locations are taken. They keep the prisoners alone until they are willing to share information. Then they're transported along this road here –" his finger followed the dirt trail right past where their hiding place was, "– to other undisclosed locations, likely to be killed."

Merlin felt his fingers clench in on his palms, and decided he could care less if he drew blood. His father must have seen his reaction because he said no more. Merlin felt a hand briefly press on his shoulder, however, and that both calmed him and reminded him that he needed to have a clear head for their next move.

It was his first mission, and Merlin thought he would have been more scared than he actually felt. Originally, he had felt that even after five months of preparation that he would fail in any mission he succeeded on, and just the thought of actually entering the field made his palms sweat more than that day almost a year ago when he had first gotten married.

But now, Merlin almost laughed at his being scared. Sure, he was nervous as hell, but inside his mind he was surprised to find a grim determination that didn't seem too surprised at the idea of death. He knew this was mostly a result of his months of isolation in Lancelot's flat, this new, sadistic side to his personality, but to be honest Merlin couldn't bring himself to care.

Balinor touched his shoulder gently and Merlin jerked himself to attention again, focusing on nothing but the mission and his surroundings.

"Do you remember what to do?" his father whispered. Merlin nodded once, his jaw set in determination as he watched the prisoner van appear around a turn and creep slowly down the narrow road. He was ready.

As the van slowly passed them, Merlin studied everything he could in the few seconds he had. The van was a midnight black with only two windows in the front and a large expanse without windows in the back. The side of the van held a simple swastika, a sight that made him feel slightly ill. No ledges existed on the sides of the van, but the back had a bumper and a top rail that would be just what he needed to make his move.

The van slowly passed by them. As soon as the back was completely in view, Merlin jumped up and sprang out of the grass onto the road, jogging behind the van just out of sight of the review mirrors that would have otherwise given him away. He waited a few precious moments to see if the van would falter, but when the engine continued rumbling steadily he made his next move, taking a quick jump and grabbing hold of the top railing while his feet found footing on the back bumper.

Merlin quickly glanced back to where his father was hidden, and received a thumbs up. With a grin that didn't feel like something he would do at all, Merlin gripped the top railing hard and began jumping heavily on the bumper, his moves rocking the van hopefully enough to gain the attention of the drivers. He inside cursed his light weight as it seemed as if the drivers hadn't noticed his moves, and he began doubling his efforts wherever he could.

Finally the van stopped, and Merlin felt a surge of adrenaline course through his veins even more as he finally realized the danger he could have just gotten himself into. With a quick huff of breath he jumped off the bumper – which rocked the van one last time – and dashed to the right side and got in place next to the door. Sure enough, a few seconds later, an angry driver jumped out of the truck, shouting angry things in German. Merlin waited until he turned around and made eye contact before throwing the first punch. With a grunt the man was down on the ground, heaving his chest with his breath whistling. Merlin took something out of his back pocket, uncapping it and leaning over the man. The driver grunted but Merlin placed the tip of the syringe next to his throat and with a quick intake of breath he pressed the needle into the skin. He inserted the liquid inside and almost instantly the man's eyes rolled in his head and he was out like a light.

There were scuffles from the other side of the truck where Balinor had surely attacked the other man, the more dangerous one, and Merlin hesitated in his place. He wanted to go help his father, but he knew what his orders were. With a sigh of frustration he leaned over the man and found the keys to the back of the truck. He then pushed himself off the dry, dirty ground and brushed off his trousers before walking to the back.

When he was standing in front of the back doors Merlin couldn't help but peer around the other side to see his father had wrestled the gun the other Nazi had possessed and was currently hitting said soldier in the head as he fought back. Merlin took a deep breath, almost feeling elated, and stared at the two keys on the key ring. The smaller one was obviously the one that fit the door, but curiosity got a hold of him as he stared at the larger one. Without thinking about what he was doing he quickly separated the larger key from the key ring and pocketed it. Then he inserted the remaining, tiny key into the lock that fit the doors.

"Did you finish?" Balinor asked breathlessly as he beamed at his son in a way that Merlin hadn't been looked at in such a long time. For a moment he forgot where he was and instead remembered his mother back when he was young and came back from one of the three musketeer's adventures. She would often beam at him as he tried to look brave from receiving a cut on his knee, and it was this smile that would usually make his day better, no matter what degree of good or bad the day already was.

Merlin then remembered where he was and he felt a blush creep up his neck. "I…erm, yeah," he said quickly, turning the lock and swinging the door open for both of them to see the contents inside.

The six pairs of eyes that stared back seemed to bore into Merlin's soul. The truck was dark and he couldn't see properly, but he had been warned that the people that he would be rescuing wouldn't always be looking as whole as they might have otherwise. He took that small key again and entered the truck quickly, feeling around for the chains that held the prisoners inside and unlocking each pair individually.

"Don't be afraid, we're here to help you," his father called from the back of the truck. Follow me now, quickly. We need to get out of here."

The people began leaving at a fast pace, and Merlin followed the last one out, his eyes getting rounder and rounder as he saw just what these people had been reduced to.

Balinor put a comforting hand on Merlin's shoulder again, a move that he tended to make often. Merlin couldn't tear his eyes away from the prisoners but he jerked his head once to show that he was listening.

"Don't stare, it isn't polite," his father merely reminded him, and Merlin forced his eyes to look at Balinor. He nodded again, and Balinor gave him a grim smile as if to remind him that this was how his life was going to be indefinitely. Then he jogged ahead of the prisoners and began leading the way out of the woods and back to safety.

**A/N: Happy Belated Christmas, everybody! Thanks for the reviews, I had a wonderful Christmas. 3**

**On a side note, did anybody see BOTH the Merlin series finale and the Doctor Who Christmas special? They were both gold, and of course the Christmas special...well, if you watched it, you know why I'm mentioning it in a WWII fanfiction. ;)**

**And thanks for being patient, I was without wifi for four days, and I only had time to write this chapter. Don't worry, the big stuff is just around the bend!**


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